


Punishment Through the Ages

by AthenaG



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Drinking & Talking, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Laughter, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Teaching, Wine, Young Albus Dumbledore, Young James Potter, Young Minerva McGonagall, Young Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaG/pseuds/AthenaG
Summary: Five ex-pupils of Hogwarts and an accio spell summoning dusty bottles of wine from the cellar in Grimmauld Place, leads to tales of the worst punishments the three professors in the room ever received. A/N: Just a bit of fun.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters or places portrayed in this story are mine. All belong to JK Rowling. Not copyright infringement intended. (But Gesticulating Gin is mine! :) )
> 
> Author's Note: Just a bit of fun with our three favourite professors. Enjoy!

The three members of staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry headed for Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with their stomachs full to bursting after having devoured their Friday evening meal with relish in the Great Hall at the school.

Severus Snape was the first to enter. He glided in through the hall with his black robes billowing dramatically out behind him, past the open door, down the stone steps and into the basement kitchen below. Mr and Mrs. Weasley were already there, sitting on two of the many chairs that surrounded the long table. The wine goblets that were clutched in their hands were full, but a bottle stood almost empty between them.

Snape nodded in greeting and then chose a chair that was hidden in the shadows. After him came Minerva McGonagall wearing an uncommon smile. She was followed closely by Albus Dumbledore, who was looking equally amused, his blue eyes twinkling behind his deputy.

Mr and Mrs. Weasley turned their faces to the door as they heard it click shut behind Dumbledore and noticed the two professors' smiles. Professor McGonagall saw their stares, ignored them and moved to sit on a chair nearest to the enormous fire that was blazing in the grate, although the room was still dark and held an unwelcome gloom.

"What are you two so happy about?" Mr Weasley asked loudly.

Dumbledore's lips spread in a delighted smile and his eyes sparkled even more.

"We were just reminiscing about our school days," he replied, his eyes flicking to Professor McGonagall. "Did you know that in her third year Minerva purposefully transfigured her teapot into a crab instead of a tortoise so it could snap at my finger because she was bored? I had to move her into the forth year classes after that," he added, chuckling at the memory.

Every eyebrow in the room zoomed upwards in amazement as each face shot to Professor McGonagall.

"That was very brazen of you, Minerva," Snape remarked, surprised. "I hope you punished her, Dumbledore."

"I had to," Dumbledore replied. "Although, I confess, my heart wasn't in it. I was rather amused by the whole thing."

"Of course you were," Mrs. Weasley responded, smiling. "You're amused by the most peculiar things, Dumbledore."

"It is lucky for most of the students that I am, Molly," Dumbledore said. "No teacher would have let that slide so easily in my day."

"So what was the worst punishment you ever received, Albus?" Professor McGonagall spoke from the fireplace.

Intrigued glances turned from McGonagall to Dumbledore. He finally seated himself in a chair at the table and was now holding the silent attention of the whole room…


	2. Dumbledore: The Sting

_May 1894_

Albus Dumbledore sat at a desk next to his friend Reginald Kipper. He was writing the words that were blasting out between the lips of his transfiguration professor across a piece of parchment. He liked his writing, even though his professors greatly disapproved of the loopy swirls and extravagant capital letters that were at least four lines high. Why should he alter it anyway? It was neat and legible and Albus could not see a problem with it.

The professor of this class, one Professor Yorik Hawkeye, was tremendously strict; though Albus could not help liking the fellow. He had decided that Hawkeye was not all he made out to be. In one Transfiguration class not three weeks ago, Albus had been the last to leave the classroom. When he had turned to his teacher to say cheerio, Albus saw him sitting at the top desk with his legs crossed over, revealing a pair of yellow socks with red and green stripes under his black robes. Albus had thought of the purple and green socks on his own feet and from that moment felt akin to the multifaceted professor. Of course, it helped that Albus was also an excellent transfiguration student.

Albus realised he had stopped writing and indeed listening to his professor. He shook himself out of his reverie and looked back down at his parchment. He was mildly surprised to see that the inky letters of loopy writing on his pages were beginning to float off the piece of parchment before him. The danced and swirled around the classroom; some even flew out of the window. Albus leapt out of his chair to try and catch them because he wanted to keep his notes for Transfiguration. He followed the letters out of the window, and began flying through the air. Then he suddenly remembered that he could not fly workout a broomstick and plummet to the school grounds dozens of feet below.

" _Dumbledore_!"

Albus jumped. He had managed to catch the attention of Hawkeye by falling asleep on his desk and knocking _Intermediate Transfiguration_ on to the floor. He had awoken with a start when the book hit the flagstones with a loud bang, and vaguely heard himself say, "I am not a bird."

Albus looked at his friend who was looking back at him horrified, and Albus did not blame him. Professor Hawkeye was bearing down on them, his huge form made bigger from his black robes swelling as he moved.

Professor Hawkeye was actually not a very large man, but to the small third years he seemed a giant. His mousey-brown hair was always very neat on his head and his shocking green eyes were, at this moment, pointing with severe intensity towards Albus. Albus sat up quickly at his desk, as straight-backed as he could.

"Yes, Professor?" he said, with what he hoped was an innocent expression.

"This class is very aware that you are not a bird, Mr Dumbledore," said Hawkeye firmly, putting both hands on Albus' desk and leaning in so closely that their noses were mere inches apart. "You were asleep." Hawkeye's voice was dangerously low and fearsome as he stared severely at Albus.

The wheels in Albus' head began to turn quickly, but he could not think of a reasonable response to his professor's declaration because those terrifying, green, piercing eyes were forcing all reason from his mind. He remained silent. Hawkeye straightened up slowly, his fierce eyes never leaving Albus'. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus could see the students behind their professor trying to stifle their giggles by stuffing their hands into their mouths or holding tightly to their noses.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Dumbledore," Hawkeye said sharply. "And," he continued threateningly, "come and see me at the end of the lesson."

Suddenly the silent giggling turned to shocked faces. Everyone in the class knew what Hawkeye meant by that. Reggie looked quickly at his friend as Hawkeye made his way back to the front of the class. Albus swallowed, terrified at the thought of what was to come.

At the end of the lesson, Albus noticed people giving him either very sympathetic looks, or smirking cruelly at him. He waited for everyone to leave before getting out of his seat and making his way to the front desk where Professor Hawkeye sat stiffly.

Albus had had much experience of _the sting_ , but none of it had ever been first hand before. Reggie had already had it five times in the three years they had been at Hogwarts – he was no more disobedient than the rest of his classmates, he had just developed a great skill at getting caught by the teachers. He had come back to the common room after the first time he had ever received _the sting_ looking stunned and in great pain. From all that Reggie had been through, Albus knew what he was in for as he stepped up to front of the classroom.

He swallowed. He had reached Hawkeye's desk.

Professor Hawkeye looked up as Albus came to a standstill before him. Albus saw his right eyebrow shoot up unnaturally high, almost disappearing into his hairline as his unsmiling face looked severely up at him. Albus lowered his head.

"Does Transfiguration not interest you, Dumbledore?" Hawkeye asked Albus, sternly.

"Yes, sir," Albus responded in earnest, his head darting back up to face his professor.

"Then why, may I ask, did you feel the need to take a nap in my class?"

Hawkeye's eyes bore unbearably into Albus' and, for the second time that day, all reasonable thought left him under the terrifying gaze of his teacher, and he could not respond.

"You have an unusual amount of talent in this subject, boy," said Hawkeye, without losing any of his harshness. "I do not want to see it go to waste because you have not been paying attention."

Albus wanted to argue with this. He had been paying attention all year; he knew much more than a child his age was expected to know; he just happened to fall asleep in this one class for two minutes and Hawkeye seemed to think this proof that Albus was not interested in the entire subject.

"Yes, sir," Albus said again.

"Very well. Now then," Hawkeye continued, rising from his chair and pulling his wand out from his pocket. Albus swallowed and felt his throat had gone dry. "You will learn from your mistake by knowing what punishment would befall you if it ever happens again."

Hawkeye stepped out from behind his desk and moved towards Albus.

"Bend over, young man," he said coldly. Albus bent the top half of his body ever so slightly and saw Hawkeye move to stand at his side. As he walked round, Albus could not help noticing that he had crimson socks on today, with dashes of sapphire.

He continued to watch his professor out of the corner of his eye and saw a thick, shimmering silver thread at least three feet long emerge from the end of Hawkeye's wand. Albus turned his head to face the floor then closed his eyes tightly.

He heard _the sting_ whip through the air before he felt it on his backside. Albus bit his lip to keep himself from shouting out. Six more times it came, each followed by six more bites on his lip, until finally he heard Hawkeye say, "That will do."

Albus now realised what the fuss Reggie was making was all about. The magical flogging doesn't actually break the skin but leaves the victim feeling as though it had.

When he joined Reggie in the transfiguration corridor five minutes after the lesson had ended, he was walking uncomfortably, his face was pale and sweaty and he had a nasty red mark on his bottom lip.

"Honestly, Albus," Reggie began, sounding as shaky as Albus felt. "Hawkeye is the most ghastly person I have ever met, including my Aunt Henry." Albus frowned at his friend but thought it best not to inquire as Reggie continued. "Hawks gave me _nine_ thrashes with _the sting_ the other week, remember? That's the second time this year already. And now he's moved onto you."

"He knows what he's doing though, Reggie," Albus told him. "I'll never fall asleep in a lesson again, you mark my words."

_February 18_ _98_

" _Dumbledore_!"

Albus' eyes shot open only to have his vision filled by the black robes of Professor Hawkeye.

"Am I boring you?"

x x x

Mr and Mrs. Weasley were in fits of laughter, probably more so than usual because of the now completely empty wine glasses before them. However, the two professors listening to the tale remained controlled. Professor McGonagall was still seated next to the blazing fire, now with a smile playing against her lips and a single eyebrow raised in the Headmaster's direction. Professor Snape had come out of the shadows and moved closer to the group around the table. He wore a small smile that barely showed on his thin lips, and when the hilarity that had taken hold of the Weasley's had subsided, he spoke.

"You were at school when _the sting_ was authorized?" he said calmly, but his smile was more visible now as laughter filled the room once more. "Argus Filch must never have heard of it," Snape continued, "otherwise I am sure he would be petitioning for it to be legalised."

Dumbledore looked at Snape and his eyes twinkled.

"I admit," Dumbledore said, with an expression of amusement, "that I have been extra careful to not mention it when he is around. Though _Hogwarts: A History_ remarks upon it quite plainly."

"I can't believe you were _flogged_ , Dumbledore," said Mrs. Weasley, still chortling gleefully. "You must have been at school _eons_ ago."

The rest of the group, including Professor McGonagall, clenched their teeth tightly to try and hold in their laughter at Mrs. Weasley's unintentional offence. Mr. Weasley snorted into his goblet.

"Compare my life to that of the world's and I am a mere seedling, Molly," Dumbledore said, equally as amused at Mrs. Weasley's remark as the others.

"Okay, who's next, Minerva?" Mr. Weasley said, pointedly.

All eyes moved to focus on Professor McGonagall and the room fell into an eager silence as they awaited her story.

Professor McGonagall eyed Mr Weasley sternly, and then exhaled loudly through her nostrils and relaxed into her chair.

"Very well," she said, reconciled to the worst.

She summoned three goblets to her side from one of the dim cupboards on the dull wall, and two more dusty bottles of wine from the cellar. As if by an invisible hand, one of the bottles emptied its deep crimson contents into the five goblets that were standing on the table top.

"But this does not leave this room," she added sharply, and every being in the room knew that if they opened their mouths to utter a word of what would soon escape Professor McGonagall's lips, then they would have to witness the extent of her wrath – a thought which no one found pleasant.

Professor McGonagall's eyes shot to Dumbledore. A knowing look passed between them which did not go unnoticed by the others in the room. Out of all of them, Dumbledore was the only one who had known Professor McGonagall when she was a student. He knew what was to come.


	3. McGonagall: Musyric

_October 1942_

Minerva sat in her favourite chair in the Gryffindor common room by the fire. The day had been bitingly cold and she had had a pressing need to thaw out her skin. That had been several hours ago. It was now passed midnight and Minerva was sitting with her feet curled up under her, leaning on the arm of her chair towards the roaring fire, engrossed in the novel in her hand ( _Brothers of the Wand_ ), her new glasses perched on the end of her nose, her head girl badge glinting in the firelight.

The scrambling through the portrait hole went completely unnoticed by Minerva, but the two shadows that loomed over her moments later did not.

"You're in my light," Minerva said, not looking up from her book.

"Well you won't mind when you find out what we're holding." The excited voice belonged to Minerva's friend, Isadore.

Minerva finished reading the paragraph that she was in the middle of and finally glanced up at her friend. Standing next to Isadore was Minerva's other friend and Isadore's twin brother, Theodoric, Theo for short. Their light brown hair was windswept, their blue eyes were shining brightly and their skin was pink from the cold outdoor air. They were both wearing the exact same smile – a smile of eager anticipation.

"What?" Minerva asked them suspiciously, noticing that their hands were hidden from view.

"Ready?" Isadore said.

"Ready," Theodoric replied.

From behind their backs came an enormous and very heavy looking green bottle. They held it steadily between them and shouted, "Happy Birthday!" in unison.

Minerva read the silver Old English style writing on the violet label of the bottle in surprise: _Gesticulating Gin_. She had never had it before but she had seen her mother drink it. The liquid is poured out and it waves at whoever is holding the glass at the time, or otherwise it waves at the table it is set upon. Sometimes the clear contents take the form of a tiny man from the waist upward, as though bobbing in water; sometimes it is just an excited little arm that extends from the liquid. Minerva's face must have shown her astonishment.

"I think she likes it," Theo said happily, watching Minerva's face.

"Where did you get it?" Minerva asked astounded.

"We asked Emeret to get it for us a few weeks ago," Isadore responded. "We just met him in Hogsmeade."

Emeret was the twins much older brother who had left Hogwarts over a decade ago. He had been the one who had told them about a hidden passageway that lead into Hogsmeade from Hogwarts.

"So how about a little birthday tipple, Minerva?" Theo asked, grinning at her once again. Minerva was about to protest, but instead she smiled hesitantly back. It was her final year after all.

x

"SHHH!" "SH!" "SHHH!" "SHH!" "SHHHHHHH!"

Minerva, Isadore and Theo were in fits of giggles as they attempted to scramble out of the portrait hole after one o'clock in the morning. The mandrake leaf that Theo had been smoking had made him hungry so Isadore's marvellous idea was to sneak into the Hogwarts kitchens for some food.

Minerva was the first out of the portrait hole, but Theo's hand had been in front of her foot, so when she moved her leg to take the final step she had tripped and fell out of the hole. Theo, being in the state that he was in, had burst into laughter and couldn't move.

"Theo, just bloody get out of the way! Oh!" Isadore pushed him a little harder than she had intended and he flew out of the portrait hole and landed on top of Minerva.

"Oooff," Minerva said before exploding into laughter once again. "Hello, Theo."

Theo still could not move for laughing. He was sprawled over Minerva crossways, his head and feet level with her stomach.

"Oh, shit," Isadore said, giggling as she climbed out of the portrait hole. "Are you ok, Minerva?" She leant down and pulled Theo up so Minerva could breathe properly.

"What about me?" Theo said, still giggling uncontrollably.

"Your fall was cushioned, Theodoric. Minerva took the blow!"

Sitting up and breathing heavily but still smiling, Minerva said, "Come on then," and attempted to get up. It took a while, what with the laughing and the spinning corridor and each of them clinging to the others for support.

Strangely, the three friends managed to get in and out of the kitchens without any trouble. Theo had stacks of food piled high in his arms as he led the way down the corridor and away from the portrait of the basket of fruit. Minerva and Isadore had been given a tin of biscuits each from the night shift house elves.

"Let's do it now, Theo," Minerva heard Isadore whisper a few minutes later. " _Alohamora_.This one's unlocked."

Minerva turned and saw Isadore and Theo looking into the Transfiguration classroom.

"What are you doing?" she whispered loudly. "I thought we were going back."

"Come in here, Minerva," Theo said. "We want to give you your other present."

Too drunk to care too much that she was breaking into her favourite professor's classroom, Minerva stumbled back towards the open door and followed the twins inside.

While Theo cleared the desks and chairs with his wand so that they leant against the walls, Isadore poured Minerva another drink. Gesticulating Gin never likes to leave the bottle, and when its drinker is already somewhat inebriated it is rather harder, but ten times funnier, to attempt to pour it into a glass. Minerva and Isadore were, once again, in fits of giggles by the time Theo had created a space in the centre of the classroom.

Minerva was watching the clear liquid form the shape of a tiny man half immersed in the drink. As he waved at her, Minerva heard Isadore say, "Pour it yourself, Theo."

Theo had evidently had this drink before because the gin was in his glass after only a few seconds.

"Right, Miner-erva," Isadore hiccoughed. "Are you ready?"

"Probably not," Minerva replied, smiling.

"Okay, stand in the middle of the room."

Minerva chuckled, wobbling slightly before she walked a wonky little line to the centre of the classroom. The floor was seesawing. It felt as though she was walking on the deck of a ship in a breeze-fluttering sea. With the Gin waving at her from the glass in her left hand, she turned back to face her friends.

"Okay," said Theo. "Catch!"

Minerva vaguely saw something scarlet streak through the air towards her and by the time she realised what it was, it was too late. Her hand had reached out and she made a very awkward catch, attempting to keep the gin from spilling and trying not to drop the object at the same time.

The twins shouted out before Minerva could say a word: " _Phoenix Eyes_!"

It was a bizarre feeling. Lyrics and a tune barely known to Minerva filled her head. She held in her hand a Musyric, a Magical Microphone, the number one best selling game at Zonko's Joke Shop. She had heard a lot about the Musyric in the last few weeks, but no one she knew owned one. Whomever the microphone is thrown to, that person has to sing the first song shouted out by the other players. The catch is that you cannot release the microphone until the whole song is sung and there is no way out of singing it, even if you do not know the words, because the Musyric is bewitched to fill the singer's head with the knowledge of, and a passion for, any and every song ever written.

So before she knew what she was doing, Minerva had gripped the Musyric tightly and was singing the cheery, upbeat love song in to it with a passion she certainly did not hold for the ghastly tune. Isadore and Theo were crumbling with laughter in front of her, and Minerva had her eyes closed and was singing ardently into the Musyric.

"… _what they say about you and your Phoenix eyes…_ "

The only part of Minerva that betrayed her horror of the performance happening against her will, was the blush to her cheeks that was steadily creeping upon her as the song went on. She knew she had a terrible singing voice, but the Musyric made it sound wonderful to her ears. To Isadore and Theodoric, however, the sounds coming from Minerva were something close to a screeching cat.

Then Minerva became so caught up in the song that she made the mistake of attempting an extravagant twirl. This, mixed the gin in her bloodstream, was a terrible combination and it looked as though the room was spinning the wrong way. Confused, Minerva did a strange half pirouette in mid-air and her feet became tangled up in her dressing gown with the result that the last, carrying note of the song was sung rather overzealously from the floor.

As soon as the song finished Minerva came immediately back to her own senses, or what was left of them after the gin. She threw the Musyric out of her hands and spun round on the floor to face her friends.

She froze. To the right of Isadore and Theo, who had collapsed onto the floor in hysterics, stood Professor Dumbledore, half hidden in shadow, out of focus but very definitely present. Minerva felt her blush deepen as she recalled what she had just done. How long had he been standing there? She had had her eyes closed for most of the song as she sang it with fervour. Her friends had evidently neither seen nor heard him enter the room.

"Oh, come – come on Mi – Minerva, don't be like – that," Theo said, misinterpreting her distress. He spoke with difficulty, for his garbled words were hard to say through his laughter. "That was won – derful! Happy – Happy birthday!"

"Or perhaps not so happy."

Theo and Isadore ceased their laughter immediately and attempted to get to their feet. In their scrambling, Minerva who had remained on the floor chanced a glance at Dumbledore as he moved out of the shadows and further into the classroom. She could have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

Attempting to overcome her enormous embarrassment at passionately singing a love song in front of her transfiguration professor, Minerva got to her feet also, but stumbled slightly because the room was still spinning and would not remain still. A flash of green on the floor caught her eye as she rose and she realised that the bottle of gin was within Dumbledore's eyeline. With a rush of panic and a hasty flick of her wand, Minerva moved the bottle so that it stood behind one of the desks that leaned against the wall and took on the shape of a church candle. The room fell to silence.

Dumbledore did not speak for several seconds, during which Theo's giggles had returned. He stood next to Isadore and was shaking with silent laughter. This set Isadore off and consequently Minerva. All three stood before their professor, quivering in silence, trying with all their might to stem their giggles. None of them could look Dumbledore in the face, especially not Minerva who, for some reason, felt a huge amount guilt, which would probably have stopped her laughter had it not been for the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed that night.

Dumbledore's silence was hilariously agonising to the three friends, and so when he finally spoke it was to enormous relief as well as shame.

"Back to your dormitories, all of you," he said. His words immediately silenced Minerva. They sounded harsh and cold, so very unlike the Dumbledore she knew and respected. "I will let you know the time and place of your detentions."

The next morning, Minerva, Isadore and Theo sat at the breakfast tables with pounding heads and wobbly stomachs. Theo was much better off than his sister and Minerva though, and was wolfing down a large fried English breakfast. Minerva had had a slice of dry toast and was feeling worse for it.

"Enjoying your birthday so far, Minerva?" Theo asked after swallowing a huge mouthful of scrambled egg and beans.

Minerva simply glared sharply at him but kept her mouth firmly shut.

"Ah, come on, Minerva, it's not the end of the world. So we're getting detention on your birthday. What better way to show your independence as you come of age, hm?"

Against her better judgement, Minerva smiled at this. Theo often spoke nonsense, but sometimes it was rather comforting nonsense. Then the mail arrived.

Six owls came whooshing down to settle between Minerva, Isadore and Theo. Of the four deliveries that were for Minerva, three were welcoming looking packages and one was an ominous looking envelope with the familiar handwriting of Professor Dumbledore written in the centre. Isadore and Theo had identical envelopes.

Minerva left the birthday parcels and opened the envelope first.

_Your detention will take place in my classroom at seven o'clock tomorrow night. Please arrive promptly._

_Albus Dumbledore_

"Oh no, not on your birthday!"

Minerva looked across the table at Isadore, surprised.

"No, it's tomorrow night," Minerva said.

"What?" Theo and Isadore replied together.

"Ours are both tonight," Isadore told her. "And look, Theo's is an hour and a half after mine."

They all swapped their letters from Dumbledore and Minerva read that the twins' detentions were, without a doubt, scheduled for that very evening, whereas hers definitely said tomorrow at seven.

"Why are they separate?" Minerva asked, her stomach churning at the thought of spending detention alone with Dumbledore. Their punishments must indeed be severe.

x

"Come in, Miss McGonagall."

Minerva's nervous hand moved slowly to the brass doorknob. She had been thinking about nothing but her detention for the entire day. Last night, Theo scrambled through the portrait hole just after ten. He had told her, as Isadore had, that his detention had been awful. He said that it started off normally enough – he had had to clear up some of the mess that Peeves the poltergeist had caused in the corridor outside Dumbledore's classroom, without a wand of course.

"Then it got so much worse!" he had said. "He made me s –" he paused with a frown on his face. "He made me s – I can't say it!"

"No, Isadore couldn't either," Minerva informed him. "He's made sure we don't tell each other."

"You can't go, Minerva," Theo said. "It was horrible."

"You're not making me feel any better, you know," Minerva said sharply. She was angry; partly because she was becoming nervous already and partly because Theo was indeed making her feel so much worse.

That was why, the next evening, Minerva's hand trembled as she opened the door to the transfiguration classroom.

"Close the door, Minerva," Dumbledore said.

Minerva did as she was asked.

"Sit down, please," he continued, indicating the chair in front of his desk. Minerva sat down opposite him.

He was silent for a few minutes, just looking at her intently over his half-moon spectacles. Was she supposed to say something?

"Sir, I –"

He held up a hand to silence her. Her words die away immediately.

"Do you have your wand with you, Miss McGonagall?"

"Yes, sir," Minerva responded, confused. Usually detentions were carried out without magic, just as Theo's and Isadore's had been.

"Give it to me, please," Dumbledore said. Minerva reached into her pocket and handed over her wand. She felt strangely naked and vulnerable without it. Dumbledore rolled the wand between his fingers and continued. "Now, I have some jobs to be getting on with and I often put on the wireless whilst I work. Today, however, I am going to choose a different medium." He stopped to smile playfully at her. "You."

"Me, sir?" Minerva replied, swallowing. Her throat had gone dry. Surely he did not mean what she thought he meant. He couldn't.

"Yes," he replied, "you. And your very good friend - Musyric."

"You're joking, sir!" she said before she could stop herself.

"Need I remind you, Minerva, that you, Head Girl, were out of bounds in the early hours of the morning? That you were louder than I have ever heard you be, even when you become frustrated with yourself in my lessons, and that you had food from the kitchens in your possession?"

Minerva was waiting for him to make some comment about the gin, but it did not come.

"I think, therefore, that the punishment is justified," he continued. "And I need some amusement. It has been a tiring day." His eyes sparkled in the candlelight.

Minerva was looking at him incredulously but could not find the words to argue. She had, after all, broken the rules as he said.

"So," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "You may sit or stand, I have no preference."

"Thank you, sir," Minerva responded through gritted teeth. "I think I'll remain seated."

"As you wish; though you may get a sudden urge to leap up and dance around the room."

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore sent a flash of scarlet across his desk for Minerva to catch.

" _Splinter From My Wand_ ," he cried.

x x x

Mr and Mrs. Weasley were uncontrollable as they fell about laughing once again. Professor McGonagall sat with a small smile on her face and her eyes on Dumbledore who was beaming around the room.

" _Splinter From My Wand_? Good lord, Dumbledore, you could've chosen something a little more tasteful," Snape said, straining to keep himself from breaking into a huge grin at the idea of his severe, composed colleague bursting into song and dancing around the room in front of her professor.

"Oh Minerva, you must have been so embarrassed. How horrible to humiliate a student like that, Dumbledore," Mrs. Weasley attempted to say through her bursts of laughter and slurred words.

"Three students actually, Molly," Dumbledore said. "You mustn't forget the twins. It was they who caused the trouble in the first place. And humiliation is a good deal more effective than pain or hard work. It is far harder to forget. As you can see, Minerva believes it to be her worst ever punishment, and I happen to know that she has had much more painful ones. However, I was lucky in this case. Being humiliated can turn into resentment. I would give no such punishment to students nowadays as I learnt long ago that it is a cruel way to teach someone a lesson."

"But wait – wait," Mr Weasley said, struggling slightly with the fluidity of his words. "What happened about the gin? You don't pretend that you didn't know it was there, Dumbledore?"

"Of course not," replied Dumbledore, smiling at Professor McGonagall. "But, irresponsible as it was, I knew that if I ever caught Minerva drinking in school again, as a student of course, it would be the day I become Minister for Magic. I found the candle and transfigured it back. Quite a lot had gone but I daresay I got a couple of glasses out of it."

"Oh, you didn't, Albus. I always wondered what happened to it," Professor McGonagall said, barely concealing her grin. "That was a birthday present. I believe you owe me a trip to The Three Broomsticks."

"I'm not sure I can imagine you so intoxicated, Minerva," said Snape, re-filling the goblets on the table that had once again found themselves empty. "Though I may get a glimpse of it tonight if we carry on this way," he added, indicating the refilled goblets.

Minerva giggled; the wine was definitely working its magic.

"Is your tongue feeling a little lose, Severus?" McGonagall asked. "Albus and I both remember your worst ever punishment of course. Do elaborate for the benefit of Molly and Arthur. They would be hard done by to miss out on such a tale."

For the first time since he had known her, Snape saw a glimmer of mischief in McGonagall's eyes.

"I have no recollection of such a punishment, Minerva," he said with an attempt at the ice cold tone he usually uses with his more loathsome students, but not achieving it because the wine had made him loud and theatrical.

"Really?" Minerva questioned sceptically, still with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Would you rather Minerva and I told the story?" Dumbledore asked teasingly. "Would you like to see how _we_ remember it?"

Snape sat stiffly, battling between his denial at the memory and the idea that Dumbledore and McGonagall could, and doubtless would, elaborately embroider the truth.

"I would rather stick firmly to the true story, Dumbledore," Snape said. "Therefore, _I_ will tell the tale, but I want you to know that I will always defend my actions and state very plainly that–"

"Oh for heaven sake, Severus, do you want to put us all in a stupor? Get on with it," McGonagall said impatiently.

Snape was silent for a moment, then picked up the nearly full goblet before him and downed the lot…


	4. Snape: The Conversation

_October 1976_

The Gryffindor and Slytherin students shared their Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT classes, much to everyone's distaste. Every morning before the Tuesday lesson, Severus Snape would be even more sullen and bad-tempered than usual. He couldn't help but let his entire body become infuriated at the thought of sharing the same oxygen as James Potter in that class – there was no point trying to fight it anymore. Potter could annoy him by just simply _being_. He was an idiot.

Severus normally arrived early to that particular class in order to get a desk right at the back so he could keep Potter in his sights. This morning, however, the door to the classroom was still locked. After five minutes of waiting, Severus heard some of the Gryffindor students in the class coming up the corridor behind him, including Sirius Black and James Potter. His heart sank and his irritation swelled immediately.

"How are things going with you and Lily, James?" Black asked his friend. Severus kept his back to them, but he could feel the smirk on Black's face aimed at him.

"I think I'm getting somewhere this time," Potter replied, half in hope, half in jest.

Severus clenched his Defence books tightly to his chest in an attempt to vent even the tiniest bit of the rage building up by squeezing them as hard as he could. They were moving closer to the classroom door, and to Severus. Nobody had noticed the two shadows that were about to turn the corner down into their corridor.

"Well," Black continued, "she's a good looking girl. I tell you if you didn't fancy her then I would've gone right up to her and- WHOA!"

Before Severus had even realised what he had done, Black's books flew across the corridor as he was hauled upside-down by his ankle. Severus didn't even remember the moment he decided to turn and face the two Gryffindors, and only heard an echo of himself whispering ' _levicorpus'_ several seconds later.

"What the hell are you doing, Snape?" Potter yelled at him, pushing him hard. Severus stumbled and his back hit the stone wall behind him. Potter wrenched his wand from his robes and pointed it straight between Severus' eyes.

"SNAPE! POTTER!" The sharp shout whipped down the corridor, cracking right through the air that was dense with friction and loathing. In Severus's eyes, the worst people possible had caught him. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore stood stunned in the corridor, one with the incredulous fury that made her nostrils go white and her lips as thin as a sheet of parchment, the other with the expression of the angry disappointment that could so often cut to the bone.

x

Severus and Potter were standing at the back of the Transfiguration classroom. On their way there McGonagall had lectured them about their 'shameful and immature behaviour' and that 'if she was a lesser person she would grab them both by the scruff of their necks and bash their heads together to knock some sense into them'. If this sort of outbreak hadn't occurred so many times before, perhaps McGonagall would not have been quite so exasperated.

Dumbledore had disappeared soon after they were caught in the corridor, but had returned to the Transfiguration classroom shortly after Severus, Potter and McGonagall got there. He spoke a few quiet words to McGonagall behind her desk and then left the room, without a word to or a glance at either student.

"Sit down, Mr. Snape," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "Just here please." She indicated to a chair at the front of the room and flicked its desk out of the way to lean against the wall. "Mr Potter, you sit here". She pointed to the chair next to the one Severus was making for, and made the same action to that desk so the two boys would have to sit desk-less, side by side. But before they could even do that, however, she turned the chairs to face each other.

Both boys stopped in their tracks. There was silence.

"I will not ask you again," McGonagall warned impatiently.

Severus and Potter sat in the chairs, their bodies facing each other, but neither would look the other in the face. The hatred seeped out of them both and Severus felt the hostility increase by the second.

"We have tried everything to get you boys to be civil to each other," McGonagall began with annoyance. "We do not ask you to like each other," she continued, "Merlin knows what sort of chaos that would cause. We simply want you to behave like decent human beings. You are in your sixth year here and you are still behaving like children. This ends now.

"Professor Dumbledore and I are going to share this morning with you both and teach you a lesson in civility." She paused for effect. "You will _talk_ to each other."

Severus and Potter looked at McGonagall, horrified.

"I've got nothing to say to that-", "There's no way I'm-"

"Stop! Both of you." They stopped immediately. When McGonagall was this angry it was all you could do to not quiver in fear, even if you were sixteen and taller than she was. After a stern look in a short silence, she continued. "Professor Dumbledore and I have compiled a list of topics for discussion. I will be here with you for half an hour and Professor Dumbledore will follow for the next half hour. If you comply," she said loudly before either could interrupt, "and if you behave satisfactorily, we will leave it at that. If you behave like sulking five year olds, we will do this once a week, every week until you act your age."

Severus shot daggers at Potter. How was he supposed to hold a civilised conversation with this arrogant, conceited, selfish-

"First topic," he heard McGonagall announce, "music. You start, Potter".

"Really Professor, this isn't necessary," Potter began. Severus thought he could almost see a hint of desperation under his laid-back masquerade. He was marginally cheered at the thought. "Can't we just-"

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall began dangerously. "Do you want to come back here next week?"

Potter sighed.

"Fine," he grumbled at her. "Uuuuuhhhhh, The Hobgoblins," he said with an indifferent shrug.

Severus sneered at Potter. Thank the stars that band was the complete opposite to Severus' taste.

"But also," Potter continued, rocking back on his chair with his hands behind his head looking up at the ceiling, "Super Lizard, Herb, James Clearwater (my namesake)," he flashed a smile at McGonagall, "Twelve Tongued Tirade, Death Pumpkin…"

Severus' sneer was suddenly wiped away. Most of Potter's choices were rubbish, but those last two were two of his favourites. Potter was still talking; he definitely liked the sound of his own voice.

"The Unbroken Port Keys aaaaaand Elvis, you know the _muggle_ ," he said pointedly at Severus. "Can I go now?" He looked at McGonagall.

"No. Your turn, Mr Snape," McGonagall said. "And for the record, Potter, that was a list, not a conversation."

It was agonising before it had even begun. Severus did not have Potter's relaxed bravado. Nor his awful taste in music, thank Merlin. He shifted uncomfortably; he had to try and make this as painless as possible, but that meant giving McGonagall what she wanted… a conversation. He felt nauseous at the thought and could feel his most disgusted expression remodel his features.

"Death Pumpkin." The moment he said it he could feel his hatred rise. This great band will, from this day forth, always remind him of the idiot who sat before him. He couldn't help himself, "though perhaps not anymore."

" _Snape!_ " McGonagall was not happy and that quip. She gave a small sigh. "Listen to me, you two. You are not here to answer my questions; you are here to have a _conversation_. You both know what that is, I distinctly remember having quite a few with you over the years. Try again, Snape."

Severus did not think he had ever felt so uncomfortable; he was almost in physical pain with this torment. He would never say a single insulting thing to Potter ever again or cast a single spell on him, just to get out of this room right now. He shifted self-consciously in his chair. He had to come up with a way of imagining that Potter was not even in the room. He leaned back, folded his arms and closed his eyes.

"I like Death Pumpkin and that kind of music when I'm doing something physical-"

James snorted, "Yeah right, like you ever-"

" _Potter!_ " McGonagall warned.

Severus breathed deeply. "And I like Mozart and classical stuff like that when I'm studying."

"What? You like a muggle's music?"

Snape looked at James. "Mozart wasn't a muggle, Potter."

"Course he was." James looked at their Professor who had picked up a quill and was marking some first year homework. She ignored him and both students missed the small tug at her lips.

"He wasn't. He was a student at Beauxbatons who took him in even though he was from Austria and outside their boundary. He got a-"

James yawned loudly. Professor McGonagall sighed sharply through her nose and put her quill down and gave James one of her most severe stares.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry," James held up his hands in surrender. "Please do continue, SnivelSNAPE _, Snape,_ I meant Snape."

Snape let out a growl of frustration. "Professor, how can I have a conversation with someone who apparently doesn't give a-"

" _Next_ topic," McGonagall said loudly. "Talk about two things you would not want to live without. Snape."

Lily, Severus thought immediately to himself, but out loud said, "Oh no, Professor." His words were desperate. "That's a bit much for this, don't you think?"

"Ah come on, Snape?" James asked with an unnerving smirk. "Don't be embarrassed that you can't live without Mrs Mumsy Snape."

McGonagall took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Talk about the last Quidditch match."

"That would be when Ravenclaw trounced Hufflepuff," Potter said. "Rubbish game though."

Snape was silent… and suddenly desperate. He agreed with Potter. His insides were burning. Perhaps he could say that he didn't watch it… but McGonagall would know that's not true. Maybe he could disagree with Potter and say he thought it was a good game… but how could he say that, it was one of the most boring games he'd ever seen, Potter would think he had poor Quidditch knowledge. In the end, without looking Potter in the eye, all he said was,

"Yes."

McGonagall waited for a few moments. "And?" she said at last. The two students stared blankly back. "Why was it so boring?" she urged. Silence.

For half an hour Snape had to struggle through having to look at Potter's face without openly wanting to shout at it, or punch it, while enduring his snide remarks and distasteful egotism. He felt sick with all his self-control while hatred bubbled under the surface of every skin cell in his body and frequently broke through. Neither could control their insulting tongues.

There was a knock on the door and Dumbledore entered. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall breathed with relief. "As we anticipated, there has been little if any progress made. Do you have the draught?"

"I do."

"Draught? What draught?" Potter asked, alarmed.

"I am sorry you couldn't bring yourselves to civility," McGonagall said, not without the tiniest hint of a smile. "As much as I would like to stay, I shall leave you in Professor Dumbledore's capable hands. Good morning."

As McGonagall left the classroom, Severus and Potter watched Dumbledore move to her desk, place three mugs of pumpkin juice on coasters and slip a small vial from his pocket with the words ' _Laughing Potion_ ' written on the bottle's label.

x

Potter and Severus were on the floor, rolling around and hammering their fists against the flagstones in uncontrollable hysterics.

"You never said that, did you!?" Potter said, heaving deep breaths as he tried to control his laughter.

"I did!" Severus replied. "You should have seen his face. I walked right up to him in the Three Broomsticks, asked for a butterbeer and he said, 'that'll be two sickles, please'."

The two boys fell about as though this was the funniest incident they had ever heard.

"Oh, I've got one, I've got one," Potter said between breaths. "The other day, I walked up to Slughorn's office, knocked on the door and he said, and he said, he said… COME IN!"

Severus and Potter were out of control. Severus was very much aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks and that he was finding everything so hilarious that his chest and stomach physically hurt, but there was a silent, scowling part of him that knew he shouldn't be laughing; that knew that he hated the boy clutching his sides, doubled up with laughter opposite him, but everything was too funny.

When it got to the point when every word was so funny that neither boy was speaking at all because they couldn't form a sentence, Dumbledore, with great difficulty, managed to get them sitting in their chairs.

Severus was trying so hard to hold in his laughter that his body was shaking with the effort.

"I hope you have learned a lesson. As grown men you have to learn to be civil, even if you do not like the person you are talking to, otherwise imagine how the world would be. It would be the opposite of what just happened here tonight, full of anger and hate, conflict and cruelty. Now," he continued, "drink this and go to your dormitories to calm down, then join your classes after break."

x

Severus didn't see Potter for the rest of the day. The next day, however, he spotted him walking across the entrance hall. Their eyes met. Severus was sure his face was a mirror image of Potters: shock, mingled with disgust and fear that the actions of yesterday morning would become known to anyone else but them. Severus was not sure he ever really looked Potter in the face again.

x x x

Mr and Mrs Weasley were struggling to draw breath. Snape took a huge gulp of wine. Mr Weasley rose from his chair and stumbled across the room. They watched him walk out and a second later there was a knock at the door.

"COME IN!" Dumbledore, McGonagall and Mrs Weasley all called out. Mr Weasley tumbled into the room while they all fell about.

"Have some more wine," Professor McGonagall said as Mr Weasley approached the table. He held out his glass. "Two sickles please," she added. The noise roared from the table.

"What happened in the next detention?" Mrs Weasley finally managed, wiping her eyes with the tablecloth.

"Oh there was no need for a second detention," Dumbledore answered. "Only the threat of one. Neither boy would risk going through that again."

"Now hold on a minute," Snape interjected thinking back, trying his best to look menacing and failing. He couldn't think of anything to say.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were trying very hard to stifle their giggles in what seemed like a moment that was about to become serious. But Mr Weasley lost it, and Mrs Weasley was moments behind him.

Snape shivered and drained his glass, "Oh! It was dreadful!" he said dramatically standing up and turning his back on them, facing the fire. McGonagall and Dumbledore joined in with Mr and Mrs Weasley. Snape whirled round. "Well, what about you two?" He eyed the rosy faced red heads with glee.

"Us?" They looked at each other."Oh no, nonononono. We were good as goblin gold, weren't we, my dear?" Mr Weasley said to his wife.

"As good as gold gobstones," Mrs Weasley added.

"As good as a growing gurdyroot!" Mr Weasley exclaimed. Mrs Weasley wheezed with laughed.

"As good as... good as... a GIGGLING GRAPHORN!" she cried.

That was as far as it got until, as the laughter died down, an amused voice was heard through the merriment.

"Oh really?" Dumbledore said with a knowing smile...

THE END.


End file.
